Owned
by icecreamandfernweh
Summary: Arthur is caught stealing and is sold as a slave. Francis buys him. Will Francis be able to tame the wild hooligan, and at what cost? FRUK
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so I started a new story, but I'm not 100% sure I'll continue it or not. If you liked it/want to read more, please review so I know! More notes at the end to explain some stuff.**

 **Hetalia and all these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

* * *

Arthur was in big trouble. Stealing from the bakery was a risk, but he'd gotten away with it before. This time though, the owner was ready for him. The minute he'd slipped a small bun into his pocket, two guards popped up out of nowhere. Panicked, Arthur decked one of them and dashed away, beginning an intense chase.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Arthur thought. _Why did I have to run? I'm going to be in so much more trouble now!_ The teen jumped over a fallen crate and continued his run despite his burning muscles. _If I can just get out of the main city, I'll be able to slip away._ He was going through a mental map of the town when he was tackled roughly to the ground.

"Well, well, well," the man on top of him said. "What do we have here?"

"Let me go, you piece of shit!" Arthur yelled, recognizing the lower level guard uniform his attacker wore.

The man only chuckled and said, "You're a feisty little brat, aren't you?" At that moment, the other two guards finally caught up to them.

"Thanks for grabbing him, Jacob," one of the men said. Jacob stood up, and the three men surrounded Arthur in a circle.

"No problem, Mike" Jacob answered. "What'd he do, anyways?"

The second man replied as if Arthur wasn't even there, "The filthy Osiem has been stealing from a bakery for a while, and when we cornered him about it, he attacked me."

Jacob looked down at Arthur and chastised, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. That wasn't very nice of you."

"Yeah, well, neither is this," Arthur growled as he lunged forward. He managed to knock Jacob to the ground, but he didn't make it far before he was tackled again. A sharp kick to his gut left Arthur curled up and groaning in front of the guards.

"That's it, we're bringing him to the Market," Jacob decided. "Should we try and sell him as a Dziesiec?" Arthur froze at those words. _No, please no, Dziesiecs are just sex slaves!_

The man he'd punched earlier looked him over and said, "Well, he looks like a rabid animal right now, but under all that dirt he's not bad. Slim, young; he could fetch a nice price."

Seeing the others nodding their agreement caused Arthur to shout, "No!" He attempted to escape again, but it was no use. The guards grabbed him and tied his hands and feet.

"Come on, let's go," Jacob said. "I'm tired of dealing with the brat." The three of them dragged Arthur, kicking and screaming, to the Market house.

* * *

 **Okay, first and foremost: FRANCIS WILL NOT RAPE ARTHUR! I know it kind of seems like it will from this chapter, but it won't. There may be some unwanted attention, but it will never go that far. It'll probably have violence though. Not sure yet, honestly.  
**

 **Now, I've gotta explain one thing about this world. People are in different classes/ranks (like a caste system I suppose). I thought about it for a long time and just couldn't make up good names for each class, so I ended up using the number 1-10 in Polish. It's weird I know, but um, I liked the way they looked/sound? Now just so we're on the same page:**

 **Jeden (one) - there's only one Jeden and it's the ruler  
Dwa (two) - includes the ruler's family  
Trzy (three) - includes governmental higher-ups  
Cztery (four) - includes governmental higher-ups' families  
Piec (five) - includes guards  
Szesc (six) - includes merchants/store owners  
Siedem (seven) - includes farmers, common workers  
Osiem (eight) - includes unemployed/inconsistently employed. The lowest of the free classes.  
Dziewiec (nine) - includes manual/domestic work slaves  
Dziesiec (ten) - includes sex slaves  
**

 **Since this story is still in the works and very new, if I do decide to continue it, the classes could change to include more people. I dunno. Anyways tell me if I should continue you this or just nah. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay well I've got a few followers/reviews, so I'll keep this going for now. Any side pairings you're interested in seeing pop up or get a cameo?**

 **Hetalia and all these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

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The group soon arrived at the Market house. Arthur was much quieter now that he'd exhausted himself with all of his struggling. He stood off to the side while the guards negotiated a price for him. When they reached an agreement, Arthur was shoved over to the Market worker.

"You are absolutely disgusting," the worker sneered. "You need a bath." Arthur glared at him, but followed the man. _I'll save my energy for later, when I really need it._

For the next hour, Arthur was passed along from person to person. First, the bath attendant washed him, despite Arthur's insistence that he could manage by himself. Then he was dressed in a simple white garment that went down to his knees. After a splash of perfume, he was being lead out onto the floor.

He could see dozens of Dziesiecs standing in their assigned squares. Trzys were walking around, occasionally stopping a worker and asking questions.

As they walked, his assigned attendant turned to him and explained, "You will stand in your square until you are either purchased or requested for examination, understand?"

"Examination?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, yes, examination," the attendant said impatiently. "There are rooms around to test out the merchandise." Arthur paled and stood still as the severity of his situation finally sunk in. _Oh shit, I'm going to be sold! To a perverted monster who'll use me for sex!_ When his attendant looked back at him, Arthur turned and ran.

Straight into the chest of a Trzy.

Arthur looked up and froze. The man in front of him was tall and muscular, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. His frown turned into a small smile as he looked Arthur up and down.

"Well hello, _mon_ _petit chou_ ," the man greeted him with a slight accent. Arthur jumped back just as the attendant reached them.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Bonnefoy, sir" the attendant apologized, recognizing the Trzy immediately. "I'll make sure he's punished." The worker glared at Arthur and grabbed his arm roughly, ready to lead him away.

"Wait," Mr. Bonnefoy ordered. "How much is he?"

The attendant seemed surprised that anyone was interested in buying Arthur, but recovered quickly and answered, "He's valued at 400 keps." _400 keps! That's enough to keep me going for two years!_

"Only 400?" Mr. Bonnefoy said. "That seems low, even for a Dziesiec."

"Well, there's been some trouble with this one. He's got a nasty temper," his attendant admitted.

The Trzy scratched at his unshaven chin for a moment, then decided, "I'll take him." Arthur's eyes grew wide. _It's actually happening._

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to use an examination room before making a decision?" the attendant asked.

Arthur was relieved when Mr. Bonnefoy shook his head and replied, "I'm certain I want him. Let's go fill out the paperwork, shall we?" The trio went into a room with a desk, a few chairs, and a small fire. Arthur was pushed forward, and the door was locked. Mr. Bonnefoy shuffled through some papers, signing every so often. When he was finished, the two men looked at Arthur expectantly.

"Take off that cloth," the attendant ordered.

"Like hell I'll take it off," Arthur snapped. The worker didn't even blink as he reached forward and ripped the cloth off of Arthur.

"Hey, what the fuck is your problem?!" Arthur yelled, turning bright red as he moved his hands to cover himself. The attendant nodded at Mr. Bonnefoy, and the blonde picked up one of the metal rods that had been resting in the fire. When he pulled it out, Arthur saw that it was a brand in the shape of an ornate F.

Arthur fell backwards in his chair in his desperation to escape. He shot up and pounded on the door, screaming for help. His attendant threw him to the ground and pinned him down on his stomach. Arthur struggled frantically, screeching and sobbing when the metal was pressed down onto the side of his waist. The brand was removed after a few seconds, but his flesh continued to burn.

The teen didn't resist as the wound was bandaged up. He was in too much pain to do anything but cry. He was vaguely aware of a new cloth being draped over him before arms wrapped around him.

"Shhh, it's okay, _mon caneton_ ," Mr. Bonnefoy whispered. "Francis is here, you're alright." He rubbed circles on Arthur's back, making sure to keep far away from the bandage. Eventually Arthur calmed down enough to be embarrassed.

He pushed Francis away and snarled, "Get away from me." The Trzy chuckled and stood up.

"Come on," Francis said, holding out a hand to Arthur. "Let's go home."

* * *

 **I found a list of french lovey dovey nicknames for guys so that's where I'm getting the stuff Francis calls Arthur.**

 **mon petit chou - my little cabbage (I like this one. It's funny)  
mon caneton - my duckling**

 **Please review, it helps a lot with motivation, improvement, and all that jazz. Thanks for reading :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Surprise, I'm still here! Okay so I've actually had this chapter more or less written for quite a while. I never posted it because I've gotten reviews from people saying how much they like the story so far, and now I'm super afraid of disappointing them/ruining the story. :/ Hopefully it's alright still.**

 **Anyways thanks to ivyshadow13, Sporter , Nekogirl2413, and the guests who reviewed so far.** ** **(For some very odd reason one other user's name keeps getting deleted whenever I write it. I'm not deliberately ignoring you.)** Without you guys I wouldn't have bothered posting this. (also to Sporter- this is going to be a FrUK romance. It's currently one of my favorite pairings.)**

 **Hetalia and all these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

* * *

Arthur refused to say anything on the ride home. He sat and fumed as far away from Francis as was possible in the backseat of a car. His burn throbbed, and although he didn't want to admit it, he was scared. He didn't like change, especially when he had no say in it. When they finally pulled up to Francis' house, Arthur's jaw dropped. _This place is huge!_

Francis noticed the teen's astonishment and chuckled. "Do you like your new house?" he asked.

"No," Arthur snapped as he glared at Francis. _I don't plan on staying here long._

"Don't be a grump," Francis teased. He opened the door and continued, "Come on, I'll show you around." Arthur swatted aside the offered hand and climbed out of the car. He immediately scanned the area for a possible escape route.

Aside from the house, there was a sizable garden, a fountain, a garage, a small building, and a wrought iron fence surrounding the property. Trees and carefully trimmed bushes dotted the lawn every so often. _Damn. There's not much here for me to hide behind._

Francis wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulder, shocking him out of his planning. The Dziesiec shrugged him off and winced when the movement irritated his brand.

"Let's begin the tour," Francis said. "Everything outside is pretty self explanatory, so we'll just head inside."

"Wait," Arthur blurted. Francis was in the middle of taking a step forward, but turned and cocked an eyebrow at Arthur. Pointing at the small building, he asked, "What's that?"

Francis looked where he was pointing and warned sternly, "Under no circumstances are you to go in there without my permission. Let's go." Arthur was irritated at being told what to do, but did as he was asked anyways, taking one last look at the mysterious building.

The tour took about forty minutes, during which Arthur learned how rich Francis really was. The house was two stories, plus a basement for the servants. There were dozens of rooms that didn't seem to have a purpose, but they were kept looking beautiful anyways. The walls held intricate paintings, each one probably worth more than Arthur himself. The kitchen was massive; Francis claimed to love fine cuisine. In the dining room, there was a table that could easily seat at least thirty people. Finally, the two stopped outside of a set of large double doors.

"This," Francis said as he pushed open the doors, "is my room." The area was covered in blues and silvers, creating a sleek, dignified appearance. A king sized bed with a canopy sprouted from one wall, and a few couches and chairs were placed every so many feet. Three closed doors led off to who knows where. _This one room is bigger than my entire house._

After allowing Arthur to inspect the place, Francis added, "Of course, you'll share this space and my bed with me." Arthur's face went red and he spun around to tell Francis off, but stopped, confused when he saw the Trzy laughing.

"You should have seen your face! You looked like a tomato!" Francis informed him.

"Stupid git," Arthur muttered. Once Francis calmed down and wiped a tear from his eye, he looked at Arthur quizzically.

Finally Francis broke the silence. "You know, I was going to have you stay in the servants' quarters, but I've just now changed my mind. Come on." Francis left, leaving Arthur to hurry after him. They walked until they found a servant. Francis stopped and spoke rapid French with the man for a minute, and then the footman nodded and left. _What was that all about?_

"There, your room is being prepared at this very moment," Francis said. "Let's get you the proper attire for your station." The two went to the laundry room, and Francis conversed with another servant in French.

When the maid scurried away, Arthur asked, "Why don't you just use English like everybody else?"

"I grew up in France," Francis explained with a nostalgic look in his eyes. "I moved here when my mother got remarried. I was twelve. Ever since I owned this house, I've employed workers from France, so they don't know much English." The maid returned with a neat stack of folded clothes and handed them to Francis.

Francis offered them to Arthur and said, "Here you are; now you can get out of that horrendous gown you're wearing."

Arthur accepted the pile and reached for the hem of his gown. After receiving a glare, Francis turned around to give the boy some privacy. When he was done changing, Arthur was clad in loose fitting pants and a red button down shirt, the outfit of a Dziesiec. He looked up to see Francis peeking at him.

"I like what I see, _mon_ _beau_ ," he said suggestively.

Arthur snorted and replied, "I wish I could say the same to you. You look like a frog."

"Ah, but don't you know what happens when you kiss a frog?" Francis asked.

"I'd rather die than find out," Arthur said.

Francis reached forward and pulled him closer, then whispered, "It's not really up to you. I bought you, remember?" Arthur felt a twinge of fear sink into his stomach, but luckily he was saved by the same footman from earlier walking into the room. The man cleared his throat and Francis let go of Arthur. The two spoke for a few moments, then the servant left.

"Your room is ready," Francis explained. "Let's go." Arthur was once again led upstairs in the same direction as Francis' room. They stopped at the next set of doors past the Trzy's. Francis pulled open the doors and ushered Arthur in. The room wasn't anything special. It was much smaller than Francis', but had the same color scheme. There was a bed, a desk, and a dresser, along with another door.

"This is the best part," Francis said as he opened the second door. "Ta-da! It's my room! We're connected. This used to be one of my offices."

"Lucky me," Arthur sneered.

Francis sighed and asked, "Why must you ruin my good news with your grouchiness?"

"Are you kidding me?" Arthur scoffed. "Can you think of no reason why I might be unhappy right now? I don't want to be here, you idiot. The sooner you get that through your tiny brain, the better." Francis' eyes narrowed and he pushed Arthur back into his own room.

"I may be nice, but do _not_ forget your place. I am a Trzy, and you are the lowest of the low. You committed a crime, and now you're paying the price. You have been treated much better than many others in your situation, so start acting like you appreciate it." With that the door was slammed shut, followed by a lock sliding into place. Arthur stood stunned in the middle of the room. He hadn't expected Francis to get so upset.

"Who shoved a stick up his ass?" Arthur muttered to himself before settling in for what he assumed would be a long night without food.

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 **I know it wasn't super long or anything, but at least it's something, right? I'm actually kind of excited to write Francis in this. He'll be a pretty complex character hopefully. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, I know it's been a long time since I updated this, but I'm still here and I haven't given up on this story yet. I just wanted to say thanks so much for getting this story to over 1000 views! This is a first for me, so I was really excited when I saw that number. Anyways, sorry for the long wait, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Hetalia and all these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

* * *

Arthur's eyes sprung open. He was lying on his side and facing the wall, having fallen asleep there on his bed hours ago. The room was pitch black, but his vision was slowly adjusting. He thought he heard something, but wasn't quite sure.

 _Click._

His heartbeat increased when the door latched close, proving his suspicion right. There was heavy breathing for a few seconds, and then the intruder spoke up.

"I know you're awake," Francis stated. Something about his voice was off, but Arthur couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He remained frozen on the bed, hoping Francis would give up and go away. Feet shuffled toward the bed, but stopped when it sounded like Francis ran into something.

"Fuck!" Francis swore. _He doesn't seem like the type to curse._ Arthur looked over and saw Francis standing beside the bed and holding his knee. Their eyes met, and Arthur didn't like what he saw. The Trzy's eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like a mess with his hair and clothes crumpled up.

"What are you looking at?" Francis asked before letting out a loud belch that smelled strongly of wine.

Arthur sat up and said, "You're drunk."

"No I'm not," Francis insisted before climbing onto the bed. He moved clumsily, but Arthur still nervously backed up against the wall.

"What do you want?" the teen asked. Francis stared at Arthur and didn't reply. He licked his lips hungrily and jumped on top of the Dziesiec.

Arthur shoved Francis away and yelped, "Get off of me!" Francis, being drunk, lost his balance easily and fell off the bed. Arthur crawled over and peered down at the pitiful heap on the floor. Francis looked up at Arthur with eyes filled with a mixture of desire and melancholy longing. Without warning, those same eyes filled with tears.

"Why am I always so alone?" Francis choked out. _What the hell?!_ Arthur stared at Francis, unsure of what to do. He never had to make a decision though, since before long the crying was replaced with quiet snores. Arthur sat back on his bed to wait until Francis woke up. He wanted answers.

It took quite a few hours, but Francis finally began to stir. He groaned and opened his eyes, hissing and holding his head at the sunlight streaming into the room. _Someone has a hangover._

Arthur smirked and asked louder than necessary, "Did you sleep well?" He grinned when he saw Francis wince and clutch his head harder.

"Don't talk so loud," Francis mumbled. "Open the door and bring me my tray."

Confused, Arthur asked, "What are you talking about?"

Francis pulled himself up into a sitting position and answered, "Just do what I said. And don't bother trying to leave. The whole household is awake by now." Arthur stood and opened the door, cursing himself for not trying it earlier. _Why didn't I even try to escape after he passed out?_ _The door wasn't even locked!_ He looked down and, just like Francis said, saw a silver platter with a pitcher of water, an empty cup, and a small glass of wine. He picked it up and brought it back into the room, forcing himself to close the door. _I'll get out of here soon._

Arthur placed the tray in front of Francis and watched as the hungover man first downed the wine, then drank a large glass of water. He looked up and blinked a few times, continuing to sip at his water occasionally.

After waiting for a few minutes, Arthur impatiently demanded, "Care to explain what the hell that was?"

Francis frowned and replied, "I don't see why I should."

"You came into my room drunk and threw yourself at me. I think you owe me an explanation!" Arthur argued, starting to lose his temper.

"I don't owe you anything. I thought I made that clear last night," Francis reminded him. Arthur was about to call Francis every swear word he knew, but the Trzy put his hand up, signaling for silence.

"Nevertheless, because I am a gracious and thoughtful person," Francis continued, ignoring Arthur's scoff, "I'll tell you one thing. I'm very… touchy feely when I'm drunk."

"Great, so now I get to look forward to you trying to fuck me every time you drink," Arthur complained.

Francis stood up and said, "You think too highly of yourself. I have a favorite for when I'm drunk, and he's very experienced. He can do things with his tongue that would make you scream."

Arthur gagged and replied, "God, please don't ever tell me that again."

Closing the gap between them, Francis whispered in Arthur's ear, "Maybe someday you can join us, and he'll teach you, _mon vilain._ " Arthur went beet red and pushed Francis away.

"You're a pervert," Arthur told Francis. "And stop calling me those weird French words."

"French is the language of love, unlike English. It's so much more romantic, don't you think?" Francis asked. Arthur was saved from answering by his stomach letting out a very loud growl.

"You hungry?" Francis asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "Why do you think my stomach is growling? I haven't eaten for over a day."

"Well, lucky for you, the food you'll eat here will be better than anything you've ever had," Francis assured him. "Wait here for a moment while I freshen up, and then we can go down to the kitchen." Francis disappeared into his room for a few minutes before coming back out looking like his usual immaculate self.

"Let's go!" he declared happily as he slung an arm carelessly around Arthur's waist.

Arthur jumped away and shouted, "Fuck!" Francis raised an eyebrow at him, so he continued, "You fucking branded me, remember?"

Eyes widening, Francis apologized, "Oh, _mon dieu_ , I'm so sorry! I almost forgot about that. Here, lift up your shirt."

"No way," Arthur retorted, crossing his arms defensively.

Francis sighed and explained, "I need to see it. I don't want it to be infected, and the bandage needs to be removed so it can heal properly."

After a moment, Arthur nodded and reluctantly pulled his shirt up a bit. Francis gently took off the bandage and winced at the angry wound. He looked away with a slightly green face.

"Alright, that's enough; it doesn't look infected," Francis declared, refusing to turn around until the burn was covered again. "You should know that I don't approve of branding slaves. It's a market policy." The Trzy rubbed his chest absentmindedly as he spoke.

Arthur's stomach flipped at the word slave, but he didn't show it. "If you don't approve of it, then why the hell do you go there and buy people?"

"It's… complicated," Francis said lamely. "Now come, let's go eat."

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **mon vilain - my naughty one  
mon dieu - my god**

 **Thanks for reading and feel free to drop a review! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So yeah, it's been over a year since I last updated this... I haven't forgotten about it, although I'm sure a lot of my readers did. I do intend to finish this story eventually, but I can't promise regular updates, or even that I won't be absent for months again. I have other fics I'm working on too (that aren't on this site), and this one can be hard for me to find inspiration for, even though I like writing it.**

 **You get to meet the joy that is Arthur's family in this chapter, so here's some names:**

 **Allistor - Scotland  
Seamus - Northern Ireland  
Dylan - Wales**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

Arthur didn't understand Francis. He was constantly saying suggestive things, but not once after that night did he ever try to do anything. Confused, Arthur was always on the alert, waiting with dread for the day Francis would finally put him, or rather his body, to use. After all, no one buys a Dziesiec just to look at.

It was a few weeks after he arrived at the house when Arthur found himself outside exploring the yard. Well, he was really just looking for potential escape routes, but he obviously wasn't going to tell Francis that. He was strolling by some bushes to test their coverage when he heard Francis' obnoxious laugh. Peeking up around the brush, Arthur watched as Francis conversed with a servant for a minute, and then continued toward the small little building Arthur had asked about when he first got here. Curiosity getting the better of him, Arthur creeped closer, until he had a better view of the door.

Unaware that Arthur was watching, Francis opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind him, but not fast enough to hide the roomful of people. All in red shirts. There were maybe five or six in total. There was no mistaking it; the building had to have been Francis' private little whorehouse.

Arthur wasn't given long to process the new information before the door opened again, and Francis came out, this time with a tan and well-built man clad in red. Francis' arm was slung around the slave's waist, much too low to be called anything other than intimate. After they disappeared inside the house, everything finally had a chance to hit Arthur. _He runs his own brothel. And that means… I'll be in there some day._

Making a quick decision, Arthur said out loud to himself, "That's it. I'm finally doing it. I'm leaving. He'll obviously be too busy to notice anything for a while." While he would've liked more time to plan, Arthur would just make do. He was decently familiar with the property, and there weren't many guards around.

Moving quickly, Arthur first returned to the house. He made a beeline for the laundry room, grateful that no one was in there at the moment. He grabbed the nearest non-red shirt and changed before leaving once again. Now that he'd shed the most obvious symbol of a slave, he had a much better chance.

Once out in the yard again, Arthur waited while the guard made his rounds a few times before timing his dash across the lawn right as the man was far enough away. He made it out the gates far easier than he was expecting. Francis must've never had anyone attempt to escape before. Arthur wouldn't drop his guard yet, though. He kept to the shadows of the trees as much as possible.

A car driving behind him startled Arthur after a while. He barely had time to hide before the vehicle came into view. His fears of being discovered were dispelled as it drove past him without stopping or slowing. He decided to play it safe though, and continued on his way under the cover of the wooded area surrounding Francis' house. After thirty minutes, he reached the end of the property. He could see the town off a bit in the distance and set off in that direction.

He heard a car coming up behind him and looked back. It didn't seem like anyone who worked for Francis, so he stuck his thumb out. The car slowed, and the passenger side window rolled down.

"Where are you headed?" The driver asked.

Arthur jerked his head in the direction he had been walking and answered, "The city. Care to give to me a lift?"

The man smiled and said, "You're not an escapee, are you?"

For a moment, Arthur thought he was serious, but then realized it had only been a joke. Still, his heart thumped as he said, "You caught me, haha."

Laughing, the man said, "Come on in. The name's John."

"Arthur," the blonde replied. Once he was in the car, they began driving again.

"So," John began, "what brings you to the city?"

"I live there," Arthur said.

John cocked an eyebrow and said, "Oh? What are you doing all the way out here then?" _He sure does ask a lot of questions._

"My brothers thought it'd be hilarious to drive me out here and make me walk back," Arthur lied. It was actually something his brothers would do.

John chuckled and said, "I know how that is. I have four brothers myself."

The rest of the ride passed with John talking about himself for most of the time, which Arthur was more than happy with. It was much better than all the questions he asked at first. John dropped him off on his block and drove away with a wave.

Arthur paused when he reached his house. It looked the same as always; run-down and easily the smallest building on the block. Seeing everything again almost made the past couple of weeks seem like a dream, but he knew better. There was no way the pain from being branded wasn't real. Taking a deep breath, Arthur walked up the lawn and to the front door. Did his family miss him? Were they waiting anxiously for his return?

Seeing as how the lock had long ago been broken, Arthur let himself in. He shut the door quietly behind him and peered into the kitchen. It was filthy. Pots and pans were piled in the sink, and there were two rats fighting over a sliver of moldy bread on the ground. Nothing new there. He walked through to the family room and found his father and brothers crowded around their small TV, although nothing but static was showing. It sounded like they were currently arguing about who had to get up to adjust the antenna.

Arthur cleared his throat, but they must not have heard him. He did it again, louder this time, and finally his family noticed him.

His father looked back at the noise and, upon seeing his youngest son, barked, "Boy. Come fix the antenna." That was it. After weeks without seeing each other, Arthur had hoped for something a bit more heartfelt.

"Don't you want to know where I was?" Arthur asked, trying his best to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"What we want you to do is fix the TV, stupid git," his oldest brother, Allistor said. Feeling a bit numb, Arthur walked over and moved the antenna an inch. The screen lit up with some stupid talk show.

Arthur moved and stood right in front of the TV and said, "Do I have your attention now?"

"Get out of the way," his father ordered, trying and failing to watch the screen around Arthur.

"I've been missing for over three weeks," Arthur told them. "Don't you care at all?"

"Dylan, Seamus, will one of you two go shut him up?" Allistor asked as he draped a leg over the side of his chair.

Seamus got up, saying, "With pleasure." He shoved Arthur to the ground and pulled his leg back, but froze before he had the chance to kick.

"What's that?" Seamus asked. Arthur was confused until he saw his brand had gotten uncovered when he fell.

Arthur yanked his shirt down and answered, "None of your business. I'm going to my room." He tried to stand, but Seamus pounced on him and held him down.

"Allistor, come here," Seamus said, ignoring Arthur's wriggling. "Look what Arthur's got under his shirt."

Groaning, Allistor came over, grumbling under his breath, "I swear if this is just some stupid prank to…" His voice trailed off when he lifted up Arthur's shirt.

"Dad," Allistor said. "Arthur's got a brand."

Arthur's father dropped the remote and said dumbly, "What? How?"

"I don't know, but look for yourself," Allistor replied. The older man craned his neck, his face hardening when he saw the mark. Without a word, he leaned over and whispered in Dylan's ear. The boy nodded and quickly left the room.

When his dad stood, Arthur knew he was in trouble.

"So," the man began. "You decide you're too good for this family, and instead go sell yourself like a whore."

Arthur's face went red as he insisted, "I am not a whore. Let me get up and I'll explain." His father looked over at Seamus and nodded. The weight was lifted from him and he was allowed to stand.

"I was hungry, so I stole some food," Arthur revealed. "But I got caught."

Allistor snorted, "Boy, are you stupid."

"You know what, fuck you," Arthur snarled, face twisting. "I don't have to take this." He stalked toward the kitchen, intending to get out of the house for a chance to think, but he was tackled to the ground before he could even leave the room.

"Get the fuck off me," Arthur shouted, smashing his forehead into Seamus' nose. Curses followed, and Arthur managed to throw him off. Before he could do anything else, Allistor grabbed his arm and yanked him up to his knees, jerking the same arm up behind his back.

Arthur hissed, "Let go, you-" A slap to the cheek cut him off. Arthur look up and saw his father standing in front of him, hand still raised. It wasn't the first time the man had hit him, but it still hurt more coming from him.

"Shut up," his father ordered. "I will not have a whore living under my roof." The front door slammed open, and footsteps could be heard stomping in. Dylan appeared, followed by two guards.

"Took you long enough," his father said. "I have a runaway slave here. A Dziesiec." He pulled Arthur's shirt up roughly, showing the guards his brand. Arthur snarled and tried to charge at his dad, but Allistor pulled his arm up higher, and Arthur was forced to stay where he was, eyes watering from the pain.

The guards exchanged a look and walked forward. One of the pulled out some rope, but his father put a hand out to stop him, saying, "Not so fast. Where's my reward money?"

A small pouch was thrown on the ground as one of the guards said, "Twenty-five kopeks, now get out of the way." His father scooped up the bag greedily and stepped off to the side.

"We'll take him from here," the other guard said to Allistor. His brother released his arm, and Arthur took the opportunity to sprint away. He didn't get far before Dylan stuck out a foot and tripped him. The guards immediately hauled him up and started dragging him away.

"Fuck you!" Arthur yelled as he tried his best to get away from the guards. "I'm family! I'm your brother, your son!"

His brothers looked away, while his father paused in his inspection of his money to glance up and say, "Whores don't have a family. You're no son of mine." Arthur's world shattered around him as he was successfully pulled out of the house and thrown into the back of a truck. The doors were slammed shut behind him, engulfing him in darkness.


End file.
